


Perhaps heart strings resuscitate

by lanyon



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Woman (Comic)
Genre: Coming in from the cold, F/F, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessica Drew has been undercover as an exotic dancer. It's time for her to come in from the cold and Kate Bishop arrives to guide her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perhaps heart strings resuscitate

**Author's Note:**

> +Thanks to B, beardsley, Sarah, Erin & 17pansies for the encouragement. You are all terrible-wonderful people.  
> +Kate Bishop is at least 21 in this story and this is set at some random time in some random future where female characters don't get fridged.  
> +Title from _Public Pervert_ by Interpol.

When it’s time to come in from the cold, you’ll know, they tell her. She is mesmerising on stage, with a black corset and black stockings, threaded through with red ribbons. Her hair is a sweaty pile on her head and she bends backwards, arching her back and she can hear the hissed intake of breath from the front row. 

It has been good, losing herself in this role. It has been bad, losing herself and worrying that she may never be found and that no one will think to find her. Carol has a world to save and Clint is a wonderful man but a terrible human being and her only contact with her handler has been through automated voice messages and lonely drops in dodgy neighbourhoods.

She is lonely but Jessica Drew thinks she may grow used to it.

They look at her, on this stage, and they do not realise that she is looking back. They follow her to a private room and lose themselves in the amnesia of pleasure and they will never recall that she does not touch them, except to rifle through their pockets as she hypnotises information out of them with nothing more than the strongest allure.

She does not enjoy it but she has learned a thing or two about duty from men and from women who have believed in her.

When it’s time to come in from the cold, she does not expect to see little Katie Bishop, all grown up, leaning against the bar at the back of the room. Jess expects a nod, a dismissal from this brat, and tomorrow, she will shed this skin and unweave this web and return to base and it will be a job well done. 

When the curtains drop and the stage strewn with flowers and dollar bills, she walks through the club, back to the bar, where there will be a drink waiting for her. She does not expect that Kate will still be there. 

“I told her you never went with girls,” says Max, the barman, whose voice is deep and gravelly. “But she insists. She says you gotta make an exception.” He clears his throat in a way that he thinks is meaningful but mostly just sounds like he’s got some kind of plague. “She tips big, you dig?”

Jessica tempers her surprise and looks at Kate, up and down, taking in the trenchcoat she is wearing. Jess is sure that there is something subtle in Kate’s lack of subtlety. A spy dressed as a spy. She nods.

“Follow me,” she says and she weaves her way between the tables. 

“Room three is empty,” says Sally, barely looking up from her nails. 

When the door is closed behind them, Jessica locks it and turns to face Kate.

“Why are you here?” she asks, her voice annoyingly shrill. “Is it over? I thought it was _over_.” What more do you want from me? she wants to ask. 

“It’s over,” says Kate. “I came - I came to get you.” She swallows thickly and these are not spider-pheromones and this is not alcohol. 

“How old are you?” asks Jess, abruptly. 

“Old enough to vote,” says Kate. “Old enough to drink. Old enough to save the goddamned world.” She starts to unbutton her coat. She unties the belt and now Jessica is swallowing. Kate is wearing a purple microdress; the swell of her breasts and the tops of her thighs all terribly distracting to a woman like Jess, who knows everything about the art of misdirection. Kate is wearing thigh high purple boots.

“You look ridiculous,” says Jess, her voice shaking slightly. Kate doesn’t look ridiculous and they both know it.

“You look beautiful,” says Kate and she is measured and steady. 

Somehow, Kate coaxes Jess to lie down on the ridiculous round bed in the centre of the room. There’s a mirror on the ceiling that Jess has never noticed because she has never been on the flat of her back; she has never been in any position other than that of control. 

Kate kneels on the edge of the bed. “I swear to god, if this bed starts rotating, I’m gonna demand a refund ‘cause _that_ is ridiculous.”

She reaches down, one hand curling around Jess’ ankle, rubbing along the top strap of the high heels she’s wearing. Slowly, Kate unbuckles Jess’ shoes and tosses them over her shoulder. She crawls up the bed, pushing Jess’ legs apart and she wraps one red ribbon around her finger, tugging slightly as she loosens one of Jess’ stockings. Jess sucks in a breath as Kate licks a path up the scant few bare inches of her inner thigh. Using her other hand, Kate tugs aside Jess’ panties. 

She purses her lips.

Jessica blinks. “What? What were you expecting to- _ohhhhhh_ -”

Kate, Katie - _god_ \- Jess always knew she had a mouth on her - is using the flat of her tongue against Jess’ folds and it’s not nearly enough as she licks shallowly but then, but then, she delves deeper, jabbing in with the point of her tongue and she’s alternating between probing deeply and sucking lightly and her thumb is rubbing over Jess’ clit, and it’s just rough enough to make Jess throb. She’s dimly aware of cries falling from her lips and she tangles her fingers in Kate’s hair and bears down on her mouth as much as she can and she’s swearing now and begging Kate to fuck her, fuck _her_ and there are vibrations and Kate’s humming or speaking or something and Jess’ back arches, like it did on stage, and she wants more and more. 

Kate doesn’t relent but she’s always been stubborn and when Jess comes, it’s quicker than usual and it’s violent and she grabs tighter at Kate’s hair and she doesn’t understand any of it.

She struggles to sit up and Kate is nibbling lightly on the insides of her thighs. Jess drags her panties across, to try to cover herself and she shudders as her fingers glide over her swollen, sensitive folds. 

“What was that in aid of?” she asks, gruffly. She should probably reciprocate but she wants to get out of here as soon as possible. Kate sits up and her dress has slipped down a little, revealing a glimpse of a nipple and Jess wants to latch on but not here, not here, where she has had her way with bad men. She satisfies herself with sitting up, too, and biting the swell of Kate’s breast, hard enough to leave a mark. 

Kate strokes Jess’ hair with unexpected tenderness. “I was told to bring you home,” she says, softly. Jess’ mouth stills on Kate’s breast. “So come home to me.”


End file.
